The Taxi Panic, A Bad Breakfast, and A Surprise For Dad

The Taxi Panic

After the arduous ordeal that is any Ryanair flight we arrived, 40 minutes late I might add, we arrived in Paphos.

Not the city of course. 1am local time and still only at the airport. The hotel is still almost 20km away, and there are no buses at this time that I could find in advance. Normally I’d have dad waiting, but given that we are surprising him in the morning I can’t exactly call him for a lift.

The good news is about a month ago I booked a taxi. The driver will be waiting in arrivals holding a sign with my name on it.

Except there wasn’t a taxi driver.

Actually that’s a lie, there were plenty, just not one with my name on a board.

Had a bit of a wander, figured the driver might be late, but after a while still no driver, checked emails and got the drivers phone number tried to call but no answer. Started to panic a little bit.

Decided we would have to bite the bullet and seek alternative transportation so got some cash out and paid for a different taxi, and eventually made it to the hotel.

Next morning woke up, decided to double check the taxi booking. New email from the taxi company reminding me about tonight’s booking. I’d booked the taxi 24hrs later than we actually needed it.

So cancelled the taxi, and by stroke of luck, got a full refund.

A Bad Breakfast

Time for breakfast. We headed down to the hotel restaurant (see also: reception annex with a 5 tables and a buffet serving table).

Buttercup had some croissants which she throughly enjoyed. I had the cooked breakfast with I did not.

The menu was as follows:

  • Scrambled egg: made, I assume, with the eggs of a rubber chicken. Very chewy
  • Sausages: about 2 inches long and a quarter inch in diameter. Cheaper processed things with little to no meat content.
  • Mushrooms: fried. Actually not bad.
  • Beans: again not bad, presumably from a tin and heated.
  • Bacon: that cheap American crap that’s half fat.

For the €10 (£9) spent on this we were left hungry for more, as long as it came from literally anywhere else. So given we had some time to kill after checking out, we walked the 5 minutes down the road to the local mcdonald’s and had brunch.

A Surprise For Dad

With breakfast and 2nd breakfast done it was time to head over to the pub. We’d arranged with Maggie, dad’s friend who lives out in Cyprus with him, that we’d meet the in the bar a few minutes was from their apartment, as this was an easy locale to find having been there several times before.

In fact the hotel we had stayed in the night before was purposefully chosen as originally the plan was to rock up on dad’s door step in the morning so the hotel was picked as it was an easy walk, about 10 minutes.

Once we were only a stones throw from the pub a picked up both cases to save rolling them as this was noisey and dad may have noticed us before we wanted him to.

Fortunately Maggie had purposefully sat dad with his back to the main road and pavement, so while she saw us approaching, he didn’t. In fact dad didn’t notice us until we were stood at the table and I wished him “happy birthday”.

I’ve never see his face light up so much. He was beside himself with glee, announcing over and over “that’s my boy”.

We sat down, ordered a drink, and began to retell the tale of how we had planned this surprise, how Maggie had been in on it the whole time, how we had all struggled to keep the secret.

A surprise well worth the wait.

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